Against the Tide

Chapter Thirty-two

“Ensign,” Edmund said as Van Krief came in the cabin. “Feeling a bit left behind on the tide of events?”

“A bit, sir,” Van Krief said, sitting down nervously as Edmund waved to the cot.

“Well, you’re not anymore,” Edmund said, tossing her a dispatch envelope. Unusually, it was still unsealed. “Read that.”

Van Krief opened the envelope and extracted the three sheets within. She read the first sheet, her face a somber mask, then turned to the second on which was included a map and the last, which was a signals supplement. When she was done she looked up.

“Comments?” Edmund asked.

“Bold, sir,” was all she said.

“Necessary,” Edmund replied. “Magalong has to move. He’s done well in the defense but he is going to have to move like lightning. You’re taking that dispatch to make that clear and to make clear why. You know why, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Van Krief said. “Sir, I’ll make sure he understands.”

“But only Magalong,” Edmund said. “Keep this very close. If it gets out, we’re all up a creek. And don’t go and wrap those around some cigars. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Van Krief replied.

“Dragon leaving in thirty minutes. You’re on it.”

“Yes, sir.”

And then there was one.

“Sheida,” Edmund said, sighing. “Sorry to bother you again.”

“I’m three hours behind you, Edmund,” the queen said, smiling. “And you’re never a bother. But you should be getting some sleep.”

“Agreed,” Edmund said. “I think the reason Alexander conquered half the world was that he was young enough. But this won’t wait. What I’ve left out of most of my orders is the real battle. And for that I need two portals.”

He explained for a moment and then had Sheida pull up a schematic of the battlefield so she could understand.

“Bold,” Sheida said. “To the point of rashness. You risk our two most experienced legions, a major town, the loss of the coast.”

“A hundred thousand orcs will mean the loss of the coast,” Edmund pointed out. “If we get half the pieces moved correctly, the right half, we’ll have mouse-trapped most of Chansa’s forces. At least a goodly chunk. I don’t care how many people they have in Ropasa, they’ve got to keep some supporting their forces. Ergo there’s only so many they can use as soldiers. And we’ll have winnowed them down heavily. It’s a chance I’ve been waiting for, one of the prerequisites of taking Ropasa in our lifetime.”

“And if we take Ropasa, they’ll be squeezed down to… Northern Frika and some holdings in Sind.”

“Exactly, and the northern wildernesses. And few major power sources after which you can take care of the rest. That’s if we can’t capture some of the Key-holders. But we’ve got to destroy their forces, winnow them down at least, with minimal loss to us. And we can do it. Here.”

“And you need…”

“Two portals,” Edmund said. “Surely you have the power for those?”

“Power, yes,” Sheida frowned. “Just one problem. I’ve agreed to limit portal creation to Key-holders only. When we first started making them, there were… security issues. And too much power use. It’s a voted-on protocol. I can’t break it.”

“Who’s free?” Edmund asked. “Send them to Raven’s Mill.”

“I suppose Elnora, not that she’s going to be… willing,” Sheida said, wincing.

“Megan?” Edmund suggested. The other UFS Key-holder was an academic and a specialist in domestic affairs. Hardly the person he’d prefer handling a critical military task.

“I’d… rather wait,” Sheida replied. “I want to get more of a feel for her. I trust her on one level, she’s Joel’s daughter after all. On another her… experiences are going to have affected her. I don’t want to thrust too much on her at first.”

“Very well,” Edmund said, shrugging. “If you could send Elnora to Raven’s Mill, then, to prepare.”

“I shall,” Sheida said, sighing. “It’s never easy, is it?”

“Nope.”

Prior to the Fall, Elnora Sill had been an academic, specializing in the history of “Women’s Issues.” Like everyone else on earth, it had been a hobby rather than a vocation but one that she followed with intensity.

After the Fall, and after the initial scramble for simple survival, she had been selected by Sheida Ghorbani as one of several counselors on specific post-Fall problems. Besides issues directly related to the rise of women from virtual serfs to equals in society, Elnora was widely versed in surrounding disciplines. From Elnora’s perspective, the rise of women was, essentially, one of technology and economics. Therefore she had to be versed in both disciplines to ensure the validity of her models.

As time went on she became a closer and closer counselor of the queen on a variety of issues. Their thematic positions meshed very well and while Sheida was widely read and highly knowledgeable, like any good manager she did not consider herself an expert on every subject.

When the previous Key-holder had succumbed to the dangers of Dream, a highly advanced form of virtual reality, Sheida had asked Elnora if she would accept the Key. After much painful thought, Elnora accepted. On one level it would increase the likelihood that her theories would become policy, not to mention giving greater automatic status to women in the United Free States and, hopefully, their allies. On another level it would make it hard for her to continue her studies, especially studies of the changes that had occurred in female status post-Fall.

She had continued as an advisor, and now implementer, of Sheida’s policies. She had concentrated, however, on domestic issues. Her knowledge of anything military, other than that the war was going on and generally where battles were taking place, was limited. The one area where she had been very hands off was the subject of women in military forces. The military had been fair and evenhanded on the subject, in her opinion, simply requiring that females meet the same standards as males. The fact that many females were unable to do soÑit took a very odd female indeed to survive Blood Lord training for exampleÑwas besides the point. The military created the chance, it was up to women to take it if they so desired. Equality of opportunity not outcome was one point where she and Sheida agreed entirely.

So she was somewhat surprised to be asked to undertake an, essentially, military mission.

“I can do it,” Elnora temporized. “But I have no experience in military matters, Sheida.”

Unlike Sheida, who maintained her reign from her beleaguered home in the Western Range, Elnora maintained a small office near the capitol in Solous. She had been going over notes from the day’s meetings when Sheida had contacted her and the interruption was not to her liking, either in manner or content.

“All you have to do is go to Raven’s Mill and set up the portal,” Sheida said. “Your contact on that end is General Lanzillo, who has been briefed that you are arriving. The timing on portal generation is tight, but we’ll have communications on it. All you have to do is stand by until the portal has to be generated, generate it and then you’re done.”

“I have meetings…” Elnora said, frowning and brushing her light brown hair out of her eyes.

“Elnora,” Sheida said, gently, “there is a time and a place for everything. What we have been working on is of vast importance. In the long term. But at this time the most important thing we have to consider is whether we can prevent New Destiny from taking our eastern cities so that we can keep working on those policies. You can’t work on civilization if the barbarians are inside the gates.”

“Intellectually, I’m aware of that,” Elnora said, grimacing. “However, much as I admire the military, of course, at a distance…”

“You’re not comfortable with them,” Sheida said, smiling slightly. “I understand. However, in this case…”

“I’ll do it,” Elnora said. “When should I leave?”

“Unfortunately, as soon as possible,” Sheida said. “We need to ensure that everything is prepared.”

“Right away?” Elnora said, gasping. “But I’ll have to instruct my aides…”

“Elnora,” Sheida said, firmly, “go to Chin. Contact General Lanzillo. Put in a portal to Raven’s Mill through one of the inactive gates. Go to Raven’s Mill. Ensure that you’re ready for the rest when you get there. Please.”

“Very well, Sheida,” Elnora said, standing up and nodding. “If that’s all?”

“Have fun?” Sheida asked. “Think of it as research. Studying the myrmidon in its natural habitat.”

“Mr. Chambers?” Elnora said, frowning slightly. “Sorry to bother you.”

Chambers looked up at the avatar and then stood up. He had been working late in his office in the War Department and he carefully controlled the start at seeing the Key-holder in the room.

“Mistress Sill,” he said, bowing from the waist.

“Oh, posh, Mr. Chambers,” Elnora said, waving a hand. “I don’t need that. But I do need a bit of advice…”

Harry Chambers had been an agent of New Destiny for nearly three years. He hadn’t intended to become an agent; it had just sort of… happened. A touch of bitterness and a bit of hubris had caused him to talk about things he shouldn’t have talked about. Small things. Then a little stroking, some favors granted and before he knew it he’d turned over real information, the sort that could get you hanged. After that, one thing had led to another.

If you’re two hundred years old and even half bright, it was hard in the middle of the night to lie to yourself. He’d been manipulated, sure, but he’d let himself be manipulated. What had the UFS done for him? What had Sheida and Edmund done for him? Edmund had damned near cut his leg off in the moments after the Fall. Sure, they’d been sparring and who knew that the personal protection fields were going to fall just then. But it had still been a damaging wound. He still limped from it, even healed. Sure, it should be “completely healed” and unnoticeable. But he could still feel the blade slicing into his quad. For a person who had always considered his body his best asset, that sort of wound was mentally crippling. And Sheida, the bitch, when Tanisha gave up her Key, who did it go to? Did it go to her closest aide? No, it went to a woman, an academic, somebody who didn’t know what was happening in the world without a ten-thousand-word briefing.

And he’d passed information right under their noses. Gotten them back for all the things they’d done to him. And New Destiny had money, lots of money, for the sorts of information he passed. No way to spend it, not yet, but there would be. He had a sack full of gems ready for a quick exit. Hit a couple of portals, get to the exterior of the teleport shield and he was golden.

He’d been considering taking just such an exit lately. He’d been Sheida’s aide since right after the Fall. But just last month he’d been “promoted” to a war department undersecretary position, a liaison to the House of Lords. Technically he should be getting even better information than before; he could call on any information available in the war department. But some of the information he had been sent… didn’t make sense. Didn’t quite fit other information he was sure about.

If he was being fed disinformation, it meant that someone suspected him.

Sheida had become… cooler as well. And there were rumors, rather well-placed ones, that an intelligence service had been formed. Oh, there was already the Intelligence Coordination Committee, but this other service didn’t even have a name. “The Group” was the name most often associated with it, the head of it just known as “T.” There was a confidential budget, a rising one, but that was all he had heard about it.

He knew for a fact that the Intelligence Coordination Committee did not suspect him. But this other “Group” might. In which case, he should bolt.

The problem was, now he saw what used to be called a “main chance.”

“The problem is,” the stupid woman babbled, “Sheida’s sent me off like I’m some soldier of hers but without even that much briefing. I don’t know any of these people.”

“I know General Lanzillo,” Harry said, soothingly. “A good man, a good academic. He’s the local area commander but since most of what he handles is schools, he was chosen for his experience in military history and military sciences. He is a bit… uhm… gruff…”

“The problem is that Sheida is expecting me to handle some of the military aspects as well,” Elnora said, frowning. “I don’t know a battalion from a legion. This has to be held very closely you understand. I really need…”

“I’m free at the moment,” Harry said, smiling. “And… used to this sort of harum scarum military operation. I can leave a message that I’ve been called away on Council business. That won’t be questioned. If you would like me to accompany you and help…?”

“That would be wonderful.”

Rachel fingered the blade in the candlelight. It was somewhat like a long knife, a surgical blade designed for deep cutting in amputations. Good dwarven surgical steel, it was sharper than any dagger, with a razor-sharp point. She had made a scabbard for it under the noses of her guards, the guards now surrounding her tent, and slipped it into her bosom while in the latrine. It was her court of last resort.

The battle would probably start around dawn. By noon her father would have probably beaten the New Destiny forces, given what she had communicated. But win or lose, Conner would be able to take her back to Ropasa. And she wasn’t going to let that happen.

She placed the point of the scalpel at the top of her neck, just under the skull. She’d considered several options but all of the rest depended upon bleeding, something that could be fixed relatively quickly. No matter how good Conner was, he was going to be hard-pressed to revive her with a severed third vertebra. It was an interesting question in neural transmission and muscle flexion. Could she cut her spine before the signals to her arms became scrambled. A modern physician certainly had the strength to cut their own spine. But was it possible?

She thought she would probably find out tomorrow.

She pressed the scalpel in a bit harder and flinched as she felt the fine tip cut into her skin. She could find out now.

She withdrew it from her thick hair, a problem that she’d already considered, and wiped the tip off on a cloth. Then she slid it back into the scabbard and down into her bosom.

Tomorrow would be soon enough. As the thief said, maybe the pig would sing. As long as she was still on this side of the portal, there was hope.

“Too many things to go wrong, boss,” Herzer said as Edmund mounted the wyvern.

“If some go right, we’re no worse than we’d be otherwise,” Edmund said. “If most go right, we’ll be better. If none of them go right, we’re up a creek.”

“Well, we’ll be there,” Herzer said, saluting. “Good luck.”

“Same to you,” Edmund replied, then tapped the wyvern-rider on the shoulder. The dragon hopped onto the catapult and was launched into the sky, the leader of the UFS now headed to join the First Legion.

Herzer went down into the wyvern bay, which was crowded with extra dragons, and passed through it to the flight ready room. The riders were crowded too; it was standing room only on the last dragon-carrier in the UFS fleet. The riders were joking, the sound was good but… strained. Many of them were from carriers that were burned, sunken, wrecks. And all of them had been at sea for too long in the crowded ships. They also felt the tension of the day that had yet to dawn. Everyone knew that throwing the enemy back was important. None of them, besides Herzer and Joanna, knew how important.

“Settle down,” Herzer said, stepping up in front of a plywood-covered map board. “Everyone know the mission?” They’d had the initial brief the night before so there was a scattered chorus on the varied theme of yes.

“Sergeant Fink?” Herzer said, pointing at the junior rider.

“We take off in…” Fink looked at the bulkhead-mounted clock and gulped, “one hour. Assemble off Wilamon Point. Wait for first engagement then, on signal from Commander Gramlich, split into two echelons and bombard the New Destiny field force. Return by divisions and continue sorties until exhaustion or defeat of the New Destiny force. In the event of retreat on the part of our own forces, we cover the retreat.”

“Very good,” Herzer said, nodding and looking around the room. “Everybody got that?”

“Yes, Major,” one of the riders from the Richard said. “It’s easy enough.”

“And known throughout the ship, right?” Herzer said. “Meg… Mistress Travante swept this room for technologicals before this meeting. All the corridors around us are being secured by marines, unobtrusively. Why? Because everything that Sergeant Fink just said is… let us call it a lie. This is your real mission brief…”

“First call!” the sergeant bellowed, pounding on the doors. “Boots and saddles!” He continued down the corridor, pounding on the door of each of the Blood Lords that were stationed at Raven’s Mill. He was charge of quarters and it was time to face the bright new day. In another hour he’d be off-duty for twenty-four hours, after having been on-duty for the same, and he intended to be deep in the arms of Morpheus in two.

Behind the sergeant the platoon sergeants of the Blood Lord battalion spread out, passing the word they’d just been given.

“Drop the PT uniform,” the triari said, shaking his head. “Full armor and weapons. Draw starts in fifteen minutes.”

“What the hell?” the private said, dropping the light cosilk uniform back in his footlocker and pulling out a field uniform. “Why?”

“The damned general’s called a surprise inspection for 0800 hours. There’s time for chow at least…”

Malcolm D’Erle was dogged. There was no other way to describe it. His feet were burning, his chest was on fire and he was dog weary.

The archer corps had debarked at Wilamon on schedule and, after collecting some sketchy transport, had headed for the battlefield. It was sixty-five kilometers by road from Wilamon to the hilltop they were intending to use and they had a bare fourteen hours to make the movement. They’d marched in a standard series of quick march and double-time with breaks every hour. But the breaks seemed shorter and shorter as the time went on. The transport was mostly carrying water and the general had passed brutal messages on intake and usage of same. Food could wait. Rest could wait. The only thing that mattered was getting the majority of the archers, in some half-living condition, to the hill, on time.

And they’d made it. It was two hours before dawn when a group of green-clad, longbow-toting Rangers stepped out into the road and waved a bullseye lantern at the archer corps.

“Looking for General D’Erle,” the lead Ranger said.

“Here,” Malcolm gasped as the group was brought to a reasonably quiet halt. He could hear the archers falling out by the wayside but that could wait.

“Lieutenant Aihara, Fifth Rangers,” the Ranger said, his voice pitched to carry but soft. Not a whisper, that could be heard at a greater distance. “We’ve been scouting the New Destiny force for the last two days. We have your approach lines marked out and had wagons brought down with food from Tarson. No fires, obviously, but the food is bread loaves and meat. Casks of water and some wine if you wish to issue it. Chow line’s set up.”

“Lieutenant,” the general chuckled, “you are a sight for god-damned sore eyes.”

“Sir,” another figure said, coming out of the gloom. “I’m Ensign Destrang, General Talbot’s aide.”

“Yes, Ensign?” the general said, raising an eye at a dress uniform covered in greenery.

“I need a quiet word with you, sir,” the ensign replied, softly. “Soon. I have a dispatch from General Talbot and supplementary orders.”

“Let me get this clusterfisk under control,” D’Erle said, frowning and looking over his shoulder at the collapsed archers. “Then we’ll talk.”